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After they found themselves unable to enter the manor, they’d resigned themselves to the crypt. In these new bodies, the cold became ignorable, as did the stone floor. It wasn’t comfortable. With the hunger clawing inside them, nothing was.
The months turned slowly. Elizabeth chased deer through the forest, trying to slake her thirst. William contemplated walking out into the sunlight. Snow turned to slush to mud. Tender green grass poked its way out of the ground.
And then, suddenly, the manor was awake again: Victor Frankenstein had returned.
With guest.
William couldn’t care less. Elizabeth, though–-he’d never seen her light up quite like this before. (Lie: he’d seen how she smiled at his brother.) When she finally lured the creature out of the manor, she was practically incandescent in the moonlight. William looked at her smile, at the way the creature stared at her as if she was Luna herself, and turned back to the crypt.
They had never married, he told himself, curling into the shadows. She owed him nothing.
But we’re still engaged, whispered the hungry, angry part of his mind. She’s promised to me. It didn’t matter how his brother had coveted her, or how the creature looked at her like there was no one else in the world. By all rights, Elizabeth was his.
She was so happy, though, returning to the crypt all aglow every time the creature visited. And wasn’t the duty of a husband to ensure his wife was happy? Even if it was a struggle. Even if it made him feel emptier than ever, as both Victor and Elizabeth turned away from him.
They still talked, as they bedded down in the crypt for the day. The creature had brought unused mattresses from the servants’ quarters, and blankets, and candles; these days it was almost cozy. William tried not to hate it, or wish for the days when it was just him and Elizabeth in the cold.
“His name is Adam,” Elizabeth told him one night, brushing out her hair. The brush was another thing the creature had brought; he seemed determined to bring her as many comforts as he could. William looked at her well-fed cheeks, rosy with blood, and restrained himself to a tight nod.
He did not say, “Your Adam killed me,” or, “Your Adam nearly killed Victor,” or, “Does he covet you, too?”
It was a husband’s duty to make his wife happy.
What about a wife’s duty? his hunger whispered, and William threw himself onto the mattress and squeezed his eyes closed.
He ranged through the forests, and wandered the manor grounds, and tried not to see Elizabeth and Adam walking together, fingers entangled. He let his eyes skate past the leaves propped up against the crypt walls. He closed his ears to their conversation.
But he couldn’t ignore coming back to the crypt to find them curled up together on the bed.
“Here, Elizabeth?” burst out of him. “Of all the places–-”
She sat up abruptly, reaching out to hush him. “You’ll wake Adam!”
For one bitter, stupid moment, William wanted to make the most unholy commotion. The man was sleeping in his bed, lying with his fiance, and he was supposed to be quiet–- Grabbing his self-control with both hands, he gritted out, “Outside.”
Elizabeth’s mouth pursed together in a little frown, but she began the process of untangling herself. Adam’s fingers caught in her dress, her hair, her necklace, and she attended to each instead of simply wrenching him free. William vibrated with impatience, but made himself wait, watching how tenderly she touched Adam’s hands. Something stirred in his stomach; he tried not to name it envy.
Slipping free at last, Elizabeth gestured to the door. Tightly, William turned, leading the way out into the moonlight. She closed the doors behind them with uncommon care, and it made him snap, “That thing’s not your husband, Elizabeth.”
Her hands tightened on the door handles. The iron creaked. “He’s not a thing, William. He has a name.” Releasing the handles carefully and smoothing them down her dress, she added levelly, “And you’re not my husband, either.”
The hunger snapped its teeth; William fisted his hands until his nails dug into his palms. He still tried to match her calm tone, saying, “I am your fiance. That means something.”
She turned to face him, folding her hands together as if she was taking a stroll down market street. Raising one perfect eyebrow, she asked, “After everything that’s happened–-do you really think so?”
“After everything-–” William heard a wild, high laugh, and only a moment later realized it was his own. “It’s all we have, Elizabeth!” He gestured to the crypt. “I know I can’t offer you a manor anymore, or a title–-but–-but we were promised!”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, and said quietly, “I don’t want to hurt you, William.”
“You make such a pretty liar,” he snapped. “I ignored you cavorting with my brother. I ignored you conversing with Adam. But then you bring him to my bed-–”
“To sleep!” she protested. “It’s innocent, William-–”
“Ah! For now!” He waved a finger in her face, hating that she simply let him, refusing to step back. “I’ve seen how you look at each other–-I’ve seen how you covet-–”
“No more than you covet Victor,” she hissed back, an unexpected lick of flame.
He reared back. “I do not covet Victor–”
“You-–” Elizabeth stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking another breath. When she opened her eyes, they were calm again. “William. You do not own my time, or my choice in friends.”
The hunger snapped and snarled; he growled out, “If you are to be my wife, I do.”
Barely audible, Elizabeth breathed, “I truly pity your mother.”
William huffed. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”
Elizabeth looked like she was barely avoiding rolling her eyes. “You think she has nothing to do with how you talk-–” She shook her head, visibly calming herself again. “No. No, you’re right. Now is not the time. William. Please, be reasonable.”
He snarled. “Reasonable? My fiance lies with another man and you want me to be reasonable?”
“I told you, simply to sleep! To rest, after taking his blood!” Elizabeth fisted her hands in her dress. “He has been perfectly respectable, no chaperone would find any fault–-”
“You don’t have a chaperone, though, do you?” William retorted.
“We could,” she shot back, “but you can barely look at him-–”
“I am trying,” he grit out, “to be civil. He makes you happy, so I try. But it is rather hard when the man killed me, Elizabeth!”
She reared back like a startled horse. “You–-what?”
“Your beloved Adam is the reason we’ve become monsters!” he growled, the words rumbling unnaturally in his chest.
“I didn’t know,” she muttered, hand rising to her throat. “I-–” She shook her head, mouth firming. “We will talk of it.” Looking up at him, she added, “I promise, William. We will sort this out.”
That same odd, high laugh escaped him. “You think talking will fix this?”
Her mouth twisted, wry. “We have all the time in the world to figure it out.” Stepping forwards, she reached for his hands. Despite the anger still seething in him, he let her take them, tangle their fingers together. Quietly, she admitted, “I forget you have your own hurts. I’m sorry. You hide them so well.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. Looked, instead, at the hem of her dress, muddy and ragged from traipsing the grounds every night. The fine lace he’d picked out in Vienna was long gone. “I’ve simply tried to be considerate.”
Elizabeth let out a little huff of a laugh. “You are so different from your brother.”
He closed his eyes, the anger draining away to leave him feeling empty, so very empty. “And yet you prefer him. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Elizabeth.”
“I chose you, you know.” He opened his eyes again in surprise. She smiled up at him, a little wrinkle between her brows. “He asked. I chose you.”
Voice breaking horribly, William asked, “Then why, with Adam–”
“I just-–want something for myself.” Elizabeth gripped his hands tighter, almost to the point of pain. Absently, he wondered when she had gained such strength.
“You have me,” he protested.
“Yes, but I didn’t-–” Shaking her head, Elizabeth tried, “Please, understand. Everything before this second chance came with tethers. Adam is the first thing that I can have without reservations.”
His head felt heavy. Dropping it to rest their foreheads together, William murmured, “I don’t know if I can give you this.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Her eyes glimmered. “I’ll take it.”
It was completely at odds with everything he had been taught, had seen, of husbands and wives. He was the provider, she the receiver, and the idea of Elizabeth simply stepping outside that to take what she pleased—
It felt unnatural.
But so did the dead walking again, and there were three of them now. More, perhaps, if Elizabeth’s friend was to be believed. Perhaps there was more to nature than William had thought.
“So you are to have both of us?” he guessed.
“I would like to,” she said, and smiled in a way that looked honest, if a little lopsided. “Adam wants to meet you, you know. Properly.”
He huffed a little laugh of his own. He’d seen Victor’s monstrosity, and still loved his brother past the point of sanity. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, being murdered could similarly be forgiven.
Still, feeling the ache of his hunger, he murmured, “I can’t promise anything.”
“I’ve had enough of promises,” Elizabeth replied. “If they lead to such strife, they’re useless.”
Was this what Victor always felt like nowadays, so unsteady on his feet? William shook his head, trying to clear it. The fog of hunger made it difficult, but–-Elizabeth was still here, still holding his hands, still looking up at him with that wry fondness.
“Just try,” she ordered, “that’s all I ask.”
He blew out a long breath, and nodded.
Smile widening, Elizabeth reached up to pat his cheek. Her fingers felt warm against his skin. “Come, it’s miserable out here. Let’s go back inside.”
William flicked his eyes to the door. “There isn’t room on the bed.”
“There is.” Her smile turned impish. “I checked.”
This time, his laugh sounded normal. Elizabeth gave his cheek one more pat and turned to open the crypt. Over her shoulder, William could see flickering candlelight and the glow of Adam’s eye, creasing in a hesitant smile.
The crypt felt warm.
William took a deep breath, and let Elizabeth draw him inside.